Saturday, April 19, 2008

Stereotypically Girly

So I was just sitting here at my computer, catching up on e-mails and plotting what colors to use for my belated cast-on of the mid-month dishcloth, when I glanced up at an unreachable corner of the ceiling and saw an ENORMOUS house centipede way up there, where I couldn't reach it. You know the ones--impossibly long, spindly, gross legs, bajillions of them, and they bite? (The centipedes, not the legs.) (They also sometimes leave a purple mark when you squish them.) I immediately let out an appropriately girly exclamation of fear and disgust, intensified by the fact that there was no way in hell I could reach the thing to squish it. These suckers seriously creep me out. Even when they're right there on the floor, easily reached and squished, I have to do a few minutes of tiptoe-dancing before I can get myself close enough to do the deed.

As I watched, it started to try to make its way across the ceiling. For a moment, I was happy--this could bring it within squishing range. Then I realized that this would also possibly bring it directly over my head, and I made girly noises again. Then--this is the worst part--after only a few inches, the textured plaster of the ceiling proved to be too much of a challenge for its many disgusting legs--and it dropped. DIRECTLY INTO THE STASH AREA. I now have NO idea where it might be--apart from possibly borrowing into one of the bags that hold overflow stash. It could be in my yarn! The yarn that I was planning to use for a dishcloth this very day!

I may have to buy new yarn. All new yarn. My old yarn is a loss.

Also, I do not feel that this in any way diminishes my feminism, or my status as a strong, independent woman. I firmly believe that even Attila the Hun cowered in the face of house centipedes. They're even creepier than spiders.


Barbara said...

No. Not all new yarn. Too spendy. Wayyyy too spendy. Besides think of all the pretty yarn, that you love, that you would lose. No, here's what you do. You need to put on some nice tight big girl pants and, using tongs if you have to, fling all the stash out of its storage bags & boxes to release the dreadful centipede into the wilds (if it's even still cowering in there, which I seriously doubt) and you can even stomp on each individual skein before re-bagging/boxing, perhaps in hermetically sealed locking plastic bags which also keep marauding, egg-laying moths away.

That's what I would do anyway.

Katie said...

centipedes are the nastiest things alive!

I'll tell you my story with them. we lived in Indiana. I was pregnant with Michael. sitting on the bed, Josh tells me not to move because there's a centipede on the bed. I look and there's nothing. and he's laughing at me because I'm pissed at him and for believing that there was one. grrr. men suck.